His Widow’s Wedding Trap Chapter 1

Today is the highly publicized "Love of the Century" mega-wedding event, and my fiancé, Isaac, and I are one of the couples.

Fifty couples are scheduled to sign their marriage licenses and say their vows on a live, nationwide broadcast.

According to the network’s run-of-show, the grooms are currently downstairs navigating the "Groom’s Gauntlet"—a televised obstacle course and trivia game—while the brides wait in our respective hotel suites.

I wanted to give Isaac a little surprise. I slipped out of my suite and crept down the hall, planning to hide in the alcove so I could jump out when he finally made it to my floor.

I had just ducked behind the ice machine when I heard the low, hushed voices of Isaac and his groomsmen.

"Isaac, man, I don't know about this," one of his friends muttered, sounding frantic. "This is a massive, officially sponsored live broadcast. If you use this setup to secretly marry your brother’s widow, Josie is going to be publicly humiliated."

I froze. My breath caught in my throat. Then, Isaac’s voice drifted over, dripping with an exhausted kind of martyrdom.

"I don't have a choice. Lola has been a widow for three years. My parents treat her like absolute garbage, blaming her for Declan's death. The only way she gets legal protection and access to the family trust is if she has my name."

"And as for Josie," he continued smoothly, "she and I have always had a connection that transcends a piece of paper. We are soulmates. We don't need a marriage license to validate what we have. She won't care about the legalities."

The groomsman still sounded hesitant. "But dude, you're forgetting something. When your brother dumped Josie for Lola at their engagement party three years ago, Josie nearly drowned herself in the river. It took you three years to pull her out of that dark place. If she finds out... she’s losing her husband to the exact same woman twice. She’ll lose her mind."

Isaac cut him off, his tone dismissive and cold. "It’s a fifty-couple wedding. It’s chaos down there. The network mandates that all brides wear those heavy, opaque vintage lace veils for the 'blind reveal' at the altar. I'll just say I couldn't see through the lace and grabbed the wrong hand. No one is going to investigate it."

"Besides, you guys know the truth. The only reason I pursued Josie back then was to keep her occupied so Lola could marry my brother in peace. Now that Declan is gone, it’s my duty to protect Lola.”

He turned to the other two groomsmen, his voice dropping into a hard, authoritative register. "Go stand outside Room 302. Don't let Josie out. Once the ink is dry on the license and the live broadcast wraps, it’ll be legally binding. Even if my parents throw a fit, it’ll be too late to undo it."

Listening to him, a hollow, freezing sensation washed over me. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just let out a quiet, bitter exhale, and silently slipped back into my room.

I pulled out my phone, opened the massive group chat the network had set up for the couples, and scrolled until I found the guy who had originally been paired with Isaac’s sister-in-law for the broadcast.

I typed out a quick text: Room 302 is missing a groom. You want to swap in?

……

* * *

I set my phone face-down on the vanity. The screen was still glowing.

"Josie, get over to the door! Isaac’s group just passed the first checkpoint!"

The corner of my mouth twitched. It wasn't quite a smile.

Seeing me frozen there, my best friend Gemma rushed over and grabbed my arm. "Hurry up! They're on the second floor. When he gets up here, what kind of riddle should we make him solve to get in?"

"Don't bother," I said, gently pulling my arm out of her grip.

Gemma blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

I looked at her, enunciating every word. "I don't think this wedding is happening."

Gemma stared at me, completely lost.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You two have been waiting for this broadcast for months. You fought tooth and nail to get one of the fifty spots. What do you mean it's not happening?"

I didn't answer.

Fought tooth and nail to get a spot...

Three months ago, Isaac had slammed the application forms onto my kitchen counter. He told me about this massive network event. A live-streamed wedding. Fifty couples. The whole country watching.

He told me he had stayed up for forty-eight hours straight just to secure our audition spot. He said he was only going to do this once in his life, and he wanted it to be spectacular.

I had hesitated.

Because right around that time, my mother had been moved into the ICU.

Her biggest regret in life was that she and my dad never had a real wedding. They were poor; they signed some papers at the courthouse and called it a day. She always told me that when I found the right man, she wanted to see me in a white dress. She wanted to physically place my hand into his.

I wanted her to have that.

I took the application to her hospital room. I showed her the fine print at the bottom of the page: "Due to live-broadcast logistical constraints, the traditional parental give-away will not be permitted."

My mom had smiled a frail, paper-thin smile and said it was fine. "As long as I live long enough to see you marry him, I don't care about the logistics."

But when she flipped to the page showing the venue layout, she had gone quiet for a long time.

"So... I won't even get to see you walk down the aisle?" she had whispered.

I had broken down in the hospital corridor that afternoon.

That night, I begged Isaac. "Can we just pull out of the TV thing? Let's just do something tiny. A backyard ceremony. Let my mom sit in her wheelchair and hand me over to you..."

Isaac had pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair. "Baby, don't be unreasonable. We fought so hard for this spot. It’s going to be broadcast live. Your mom can watch it from her hospital bed. It's the same thing."

"It's not the same," I had cried.

"When I come to pick you up at the hotel, we'll FaceTime her," he promised, his voice thick with emotion. "It's the same thing, Josie."

I stopped fighting him. Because when he said it, his eyes were red. He told me he just wanted to give me the most magnificent day of my life.

I believed him.

My mom's condition deteriorated. She was moved to the palliative respiratory ward.

On the last day she was truly lucid, she held my hand and wheezed, "Momma isn't going to get to see you in your dress."

"You will," I promised, swallowing my tears. "It's on TV. I'll have the nurses turn it on. You have to watch."

She nodded. "Okay."

And yet today, just moments ago, the man I was supposed to marry said:

"She and I have always had a connection that transcends a piece of paper. She won't care about the legalities."

My mother was lying in a hospital bed right now, her eyes glued to a television screen, completely unaware that her daughter didn't even deserve a piece of paper.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside our suite.

Gemma’s head snapped toward the door, her eyes narrowing. "That's weird. Why is it only two groomsmen? Where's Isaac?"